


a place (and a reason) to rest

by Kanthia



Series: i found hope in you [1]
Category: Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: F/M, Hoshido | Birthright Route, Oral Sex, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-17
Updated: 2016-04-17
Packaged: 2018-06-02 20:53:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6581713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kanthia/pseuds/Kanthia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s a strange moment that passes between the two of them, punctuated only by a light breeze stirring the grass beneath her feet: Scarlet, her robe a little rumpled from the effort of vaulting the wall; Ryoma, buck-naked, pondering a shogi board.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a place (and a reason) to rest

In Hoshido one can take both men and women for pleasure, and there is a whole district dedicated to gardens and theatres in the capital at the foot of Castle Shirasagi. To Hoshidans sex is for leisure, for escape; something done slowly and with great care in the warm rays of the sun, or with vigor over hours in the shade by an outdoor pool. Spend a sunny weekend afternoon in one of the capital’s famous pleasure gardens and you might come to understand why the red-light district is called a floating world.

Contrast that with the basement brothels in Nohr, particularly in Windmere: dark, warm places with twisting hallways and rooms with doors that lock tight, where any number of terrible and wonderful things can be done to you for the right price. Nohrians treat sex as a sport, like fine dining. They are not afraid to be honest about their palate or skill.

Thus the border states tend to incorporate both: Cyrkensia, for example, famous for its monthly staging of an orgy in the opera house, sex as art; Izumo with its walled gardens and bath houses and diviners who are famous both for their sexual talents and their healing; and, of course, if you save up enough and travel long and hard, the merchant sisters at the Dragon’s Gate will send you off to the world of your heart’s desire. Take a deep breath and leave your inhibitions and your wallet behind.

For Scarlet, sex was a quiet thing folks did behind barns and between battles, a way of celebrating victories or forgetting one’s grief for a few hours. On more than one occasion she’d had to remind her knights to be a little more discreet when disposing of used prophylactics. Something shuffles out of the human spirit in dark hours and demands to be held on to: sex is a happy thing, a visceral kind of joy.

(And hell, what a joy it is.)

Scarlet had always thought of Hoshidans as austere, straight-backed people who chose their words carefully, a bit dickish and a lot snooty -- but holy shit did they know how to cut loose and party! There’d been this banquet in Castle Shirasagi with a literal mountain of food, and somehow her sake cup was kept refilling itself -- and then Orochi and Oboro had dragged her into the city proper to see a show -- and then there had been dancing, endless music in the city square -- someone’s lips on hers --

 _Aw, hell,_ she thinks, as sunlight hits the back of her eyes. _Didn’t think get their name._

She had found her way back to Castle Shirasagi with a bit (a lot) of help, and though she doesn’t remember falling asleep she thinks she recognizes the guest room when she wakes up in a room slung heavy with hammocks and packed with futons and bodies. The noise of revelry in the streets below had roused her early; the party was still going, and if Takumi’s mumbling was any indication, it would continue for days.

 _Gods bless whoever first brewed sake,_ she thinks, threading her way carefully around the pile of bodies. She almost trips over Hinoka, naked as a wyvern, snoring gently and looking damned pleased with herself, her arm slung over someone who could be Silas. Aren’t they cute like that.

Her stomach reminds her that breakfast is in order. After some trouble with sliding doors that look no different than the wall she finds her way into the hallway, and figuring any direction is as good as any other, turns left and starts walking.

A blind corner has her run headfirst into Hinata.

“Oh! Didn’t see you there,” he says, rubbing his forehead. “Hey, Scarlet. Whatcha doing in the nobles’ quarter?” There’s a beat, during which she realizes he’s just in his fundoshi, and a grin spreads across his face. “Oh, looking for Ryoma? He already left.”

“I’m not, uh --” What the hell is _he_ doing in the nobles’ quarter?

“-- Hinata, who’s that you’re talking to?” As if to answer her question Prince Takumi, wearing nothing but a loosely wrapped towel and a hell of a lot of hickeys, pads around the corner.

He freezes. There’s a long and awkward silence, during which a very appealing crimson blooms across Takumi’s face, broken when Scarlet clears her throat. “-- I’m looking for somewhere to get a bite to eat.”

Takumi narrows his eyes and hitches up the towel. “Down the other way, turn right and go through the second door. Guest robes are in the closet two doors down. Hinata --”

“-- Right, coming.” Hinata turns and laughs, as if at a joke. They amble off back the way they came, and is Takumi limping? Oh, shit, she’s still in her smallclothes --

 

* * *

 

“Hoshidan nobility always party with the common folk,” Izana says, over a breakfast of a warm vegetable broth. After a few wrong turns she’d found her way to the dining hall, now dressed in a pretty little day-robe; she’s curious as to how Izana had gotten in, or where or with whom he’d woken up, or why he’s acting like he owns the place. “It’s one of their oldest traditions! I always say, just go where the good times are.”

“Seems like everyone had a good time last night,” she says, and they both snigger. Laughing feels good. It’s been far too long -- she hasn’t felt this at ease in years. And before the creeping loss of purpose can set in, Izana declares that she’ll be giving him a tour of the castle town, which he _damn well knows_ she’s never explored herself.

They spend the morning getting lost in the theatre district, poking in and out of restaurants and watching re-enactments of the single combat between Ryoma and Xander. It hurts, of course, but something about stern-looking ninjas dressed in all black making obscene jokes with hand-crafted marionettes sets her heart at ease a little. She ends up buying a hand puppet made in Corrin’s likeness, and if its breasts are cast a little too large, well, they still captured her in all her wild beauty.

“I always did wonder why she never wears shoes,” Scarlet says, but at some point she’d lost Izana -- and the Corrin puppet. She’d wandered way off course, into a different part of town; something in the air has changed, the streets a little more deserted, and when she hears a soft moan float out from a restaurant she has a strong feeling about where she is.

 _Might as well have a look around,_ she thinks. The hot sun and the new lease on life has made her bold. Maybe she’ll find one of those co-ed bath-houses, take in one of those audience-participation plays she’d heard Orochi titter about. Would it be anything like the shows they staged in Cyrkensia? She hopes so.

An hour later, after a deep-tissue massage so wonderful she’s still a little weak in the knees, and a few too many cups of sake, she’s wandering through back-alleyways trying to find a bath-house. The noon sun is hot as hell; she’s going to be covered in sweat if she doesn’t find some water or some shade. She comes across a low wall, and on the other side there’s a pretty little cherry blossom tree. Nobody will fault her for trespassing, right? She can always just claim ignorance. She vaults the wall with ease born of years of wyvern riding, lands on her feet on the other side, and looks up to see --

“--Scarlet?”

“--Ryoma?”

\-- Prince Ryoma, kneeling cross-legged in the shade of that same cherry tree, pondering a shogi board, buck-naked.

It’s a strange moment that passes between the two of them, punctuated only by a breeze stirring the grass beneath her feet: Scarlet, her robe a little rumpled from the effort of climbing a wall; Ryoma, more at ease than she’s ever seen him before. Then the surprise in his expression softens to something closer to fondness.

“Well.” He clears his throat. “I hope this isn’t too awkward for you. Have you played shogi before?”

She hasn’t, but she’s heard of it, and the attendant -- equally naked -- on the white side of the board stands, bows, and takes their leave. She takes a seat. Ryoma points to pieces and names them, one by one, easing himself back so he’s seated lounging against the tree.

Somehow in all the shuffling and the awkwardness and the whole campaign against Nohr she hadn’t had the time to process the whole picture of him. Gods, there’s something so gorgeous about this man in repose, his features soft, his hair loose. His tan is so even. He must do this all the time, sun himself nude. His cock is soft against his thigh, wet at the tip; was that attendant who just left servicing him? Did she interrupt something?

“-- And when a rook is promoted, it --” Ryoma pauses, a piece between his thumb and index finger. “-- Scarlet, are you paying attention?”

Shit, she’s got it bad for him.

“Sorry, I think the sun’s getting to me,” she says, unable to stop a grin from tugging at her lips.

“Ah.” He puts the piece down, gingerly, and sets the board aside. “Perhaps another form of entertainment, then?”

“Depends on what Hoshidans do for entertainment.”

He laughs, and she laughs, and he leans over and tugs at her robe’s belt as she settles herself on her back. Nudges her legs open with his free hand. As he tugs at her smallclothes something about the situation reminds her of Takumi and Hinata, and the way Takumi’s hair had looked loose and floating around his shoulders like a cloak, or like a halo; something like a laugh bubbles up through her ribcage.

“Is something the matter?”

“I mean, I’m not complaining, but what about --”

He lifts her left leg, pulls off her smallclothes and sets them aside. “I’m still recuperating.”

Nobility lead strange lives. “I’m not interrupting anything, am I?”

And at that _he_ laughs, the rich, generous sort of laugh from someone who has survived terrible things. “Quite the opposite. I was thinking about you.”

“You were --” But then he bends down and murmurs _thank you for the meal_ and Gods _above_ he’s good at this. Runs his tongue up her thigh like he’s done it a thousand times. Every person he’s slept with is blessed, surely, for his attention; he spends what feels like hours on her inner thighs, moving in circles, biting softly, inching higher. By the time he kisses her groin she’s wet with anticipation, and when he dives in the sound that escapes her is nothing short of glee.

“ _Gods,_ ” she breathes. Ryoma looks up, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand, and smiles.

“You’re tense,” he says. “Is there something you require? Some food, something to drink --”

“You’re an idiot,” she returns, pushing his head back down.

And when he finally -- _finally_ \-- presses his tongue into her she’s trembling with the effort of reigning herself in, breathless from the sensation, desperate to drag it out a little longer. Ryoma seems content to move with aggravating languidness, rolling the tip of his tongue over her like her groin is his kingdom, sucking so gently that her orgasm catches her almost by surprise. But when it hits -- _damn_ it’s good. She seizes, eyes rolling back as a wave of pleasure washes over her, replaced by a tingling and a feeling of calm. And in that moment, just for that moment, she’s glad for everything they’ve suffered through.

She comes down from her high to see Ryoma sitting back, contemplating her, stroking himself with that same languid gentleness he’d just given her. Already getting hard, a bead of precome clinging tantalizingly to the tip.

“Beautiful,” he says, picking up his pace.

“Wanna see how we do it in Cheve?”

Thank every god who gave him such a gorgeous smirk. “Do I.”

(From his post, hidden in the boughs of the cherry tree, Saizo watches the scene unfold beneath him and tosses his lord -- his _king_ \-- prophylactics when necessary. Her bearing is distinctly Nohrian, down to the way she uses her hands when sucking him off; and yet, Cheve has shown its loyalties, and her family has a history of mingling with Hoshidan royalty. She’d make a fine queen, if they decided to marry.

Hours later, utterly spent, she helps him to his feet and he points vaguely in the direction of the bath-house. A fine queen indeed.)

**Author's Note:**

> revelations hurt me deeply
> 
> (find me yelling incoherently about fire emblem on [tumblr](http://kanthia.tumblr.com/))


End file.
